


hallelujah, hallelujah (and the sky was so much bluer)

by flamboyantgentleman



Category: Homestuck
Genre: 1 AM is actually the only time that it seems like a good idea to be writing things like this, M/M, is that a thing i can say ironically, the davejohn yaoi saga: on ice, yolo right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 11:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamboyantgentleman/pseuds/flamboyantgentleman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is when they’re each other,<br/>Wrapped up in gold gold gold but silver when it rains,<br/>When they’re one perfect something and Dave is pretty sure that two people don’t ever get this close.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hallelujah, hallelujah (and the sky was so much bluer)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pawnce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pawnce/gifts).



> alternately titled: it's 2 AM and i just read [empathy for the murderer](http://austuck.tumblr.com/post/23021864476/empathy-for-the-murdered-1-10) and what is normal prose anyway, right?
> 
> to my john, for knowing all the little things about me that nobody else takes the time to learn.

He breathes out and it’s all dust particles

scattering.

They look like flecks of gold in a pint of cinnamon Schnapps, swirling opalescent.

Maybe snowflakes. Maybe ice cubes in a tall glass of water.

But all of it, all of it’s John.

John stretched out beneath him, slotted in the afternoon light that seeps through the blinds.

This is when they’re not them.

When they’re something more.

This is when they’re each other,

Wrapped up in gold gold gold but silver when it rains,

When they’re one perfect something and Dave is pretty sure that two people don’t ever get this close.

He’s pretty sure, because he doesn’t believe in God but he believes in John

Like a sinner prays the rosary on his deathbed.

Forgive me father, for I have sinned.

But sins are for a different day because every breath he takes around John is a prayer, a hymn.

And today his throat is raw with prayers and his lips are pink and there are bruises on his neck and

And.

And John breathes out, and it’s all dust particles.

Scattering.

Sometimes he fucks John but right now, right now they’re making love and he doesn’t know how to be angry with the world

When the boy beneath him is so tender.

“I love you, Dave.”

John doesn’t like crusts.

John takes his coffee with three sugars, one cream.

John puts his socks on before his boxers.

Dave can’t remember when he learned these things, but it feels like he’s always known them.

It feels like a part of him.

“I love you too, John.”

He never thought he would know these things about somebody else, not the way they maybe

Like spearmint more than peppermint

Or the way cigarette smoke makes them cough

Or how they still iron their shirts like they’re twenty years behind the times.

(John is. It’s adorable.)

Afterwards, Dave kisses him like he’s making a promise.

His lips don’t know another way to form the words, but John learned his language a long time ago.

Fingers on hips, legs entwined.

Mouth on mouth.

It’s the closing hymn, Silent Night at the Easter vigil and the priest blows out the candles.

And they part, and John runs his hands through Dave’s hair, and Dave exhales

And it’s all dust particles,

Scattering.


End file.
